A Mother's Heart (Is Destined to Worry)
by bibliophileemily
Summary: Alternate Title: Five Times Jack's Mother Worried Too Much and One Time She Didn't Worry at All Six moments in the life of Jack and his mother, spanning from his birth to the very end of the show. The tagged OC is Jack's Father. Gen. Jack's Mother needs more love, and she gets it here. Written for Mother's Day 2015.


**Author's Notes** : When I first ventured into the _Into the Woods_ fic archives, I was appalled to find literally no fic tagged with Jack's Mother as a primary character. None! How could this be? She's the best character in the entire show (well, in my opinion-this may have something to do with me having played her in an excellent production this past April)! She needs her own fic! And you know what they say: if you can't find the fic you want to read, you have to write it yourself. So here it is: a Mother's Day gift to my favorite fictional mother!

* * *

A Mother's Heart (Is Destined to Worry)

or, Five Times Jack's Mother Worried Too Much and One Time She Didn't at All

The first time Jack's mother genuinely feared for her son's life was only minutes after he was born. She didn't expect to worry about him; no, she'd expected him to be born dead like all the other babies that came before, but he was alive and let out a single pathetic cry to prove it. That one sound was enough to awaken years of repressed maternal instinct, and she stretched out her arms without thinking.

"Let me hold him," she demanded, but the midwife shook her head.

"Best to not get too attached, marm. He'll not live to see tomorrow."

From what she could see, the baby did look weak; he was barely breathing and already taking on the bluish-gray pallor she'd seen too many times before. If she wanted to hold him while he was still alive, she didn't have much time.

"I don't care. Bring me my son!"

He couldn't have weighed more than six pounds, if that; it was as though the midwife had deposited a loaf of bread into her arms. His mother stared at his tiny face, searching for any resemblance to herself or to his father.

He doesn't look a thing like me, she thought, brushing a finger against his cheek. He turned instinctively towards her hand, provoking another wave of maternal affection. His mother tried her best to memorize all the details—his minute hands and fingers, the tuft of red hair on top of his head—she didn't want to forget his face after she'd buried him.

He sneezed once, an action that only caused her to love him more, then he looked up at her with warm brown eyes exactly like hers, except a little unfocused. Somehow, she knew—this one was going to live.

"You'll be naming him John after his father?"

"Yes, of course…but I'm going to call him Jack."

* * *

Jack did survive the night and the next night and the next, and he gradually grew bigger and stronger, although he was slow to speak and inclined to daydream.

For his fifth birthday, his father made one of his rare visits home and brought Jack his own cow, a beautiful pure white calf. Jack was delighted with the gift and instantly befriended the animal, bestowing upon it the name Milky-White and the title of "best friend."

"What use have we for a calf?" his mother asked. "She won't produce milk for some time…"

"Teach the boy some responsibility," his father replied. "He's old enough to care for his own animal now. You don't make him do enough."

"He does what he can!" she countered. "He's still a little boy…"

"When I was his age, I was already milking cows twice a day. You won't let him grow up!"

"It's not that, he's…" Jack's mother paused, reluctant to speak a bad word against her beloved son. As much as she hated to admit it, it was clear that Jack wasn't quite the same as the other children in the village. He had trouble with tasks most boys his age had mastered, not from any physical impediment, but because he couldn't follow the directions. His mother had sat many a long night with him teaching him to lace his shoes, to say his prayers, to count to ten on his fingers, but he could never remember how to do it the next morning.

"The boy's an idiot."

"How can you say that about your own son?"

Jack's father stayed quiet, prompting his mother to speak again.

"He _is_ your son. Not that you seem to care much, for all the time you've spent with him…"

"You know my work keeps me away…"

"Well, you could stand to visit home more often! You're not with him all the time; he has his own way of doing things and—"

"And what? I don't have to see him every day to know he's not all there, and the way you're raising him don't help…"

That struck a nerve, and Jack's mother fairly bristled as she snapped, "If you don't like the way I'm raising him, then you can leave!"

The words hung between them for a moment before Jack's father slowly stood up and looked his wife in the eye.

"Do you mean that?" he asked.

Jack's mother didn't normally lie, but she said "yes" anyway.

Jack's father left that very day. He didn't even stop to pack; he had so few belongings in the house that there was no need.

Jack's mother refused to watch him leave—she didn't want to give him the satisfaction—but once she was certain he had gone, she sank into a chair and began to weep.

How were they to go on? True, she'd been raising Jack alone since the beginning, but they'd still relied on income from his father. They were already so poor…how could they survive with only her doing all of the work?

"Mother?" Jack said as he came in from the barn. "Mother, why are you crying?"

"Son…" She pulled him into her arms and rested her chin on his head. "You're the man of the house now, Jack."

"Until Father gets back?"

He was looking up at her with so much hope that she couldn't tell him the truth, that his father was never coming back and they were now alone in the world.

"Yes, Jack…until then."

* * *

Jack was ten now and old enough to take Milky-White to graze without his mother going along to supervise.

And all the better, she thought; she had more than enough to do without constantly watching over him. Yet she couldn't help worrying; when left to his own devices, Jack usually found trouble. There was one time he broke all the eggs he'd collected that morning because he wanted to see how high he could throw them, and another time when he decided to try swinging from the rafters of the barn and would have broken his neck if he hadn't landed in the hay. Most boys Jack's age were fully responsible for chopping firewood, but there was a reason Jack was never allowed near his ax without getting permission first.

So she was relieved when both boy and cow returned home safely that first day. Perhaps she didn't need to worry quite so much…

With Jack out of the house for most of the day, his mother was able to get so much more done. The laundry was finished, the house was swept, and new vegetables were planted in their tiny garden by week's end. With all her chores for the day done so much sooner, there was time for a rare indulgence—a nap. Jack would be home within the hour.

But it was the smell of supper burning that woke her, not her son.

"Jack?" There was no reply. Jack's mother pulled on her shawl and ran outside; perhaps Jack was in the barn. He often took longer than necessary during milking sessions…but the barn was empty. Worry formed a hard knot in her stomach as she turned and took the path leading away from the village; maybe someone had seen Jack on his way.

"With a cow, you say?" The woodcutter scratched his beard. "I thought I saw a white cow back in the woods, but I didn't see a boy."

Jack's mother was not particularly brave. The woods were no place for a woman alone, especially not right before sunset, but if Jack was in there…the mental image of her son surrounded by wolves was all the courage she needed to push onward into the forest.

"Jack? Jack?" She sensed movement in the corner of her eye and froze, praying it wasn't someone or something dangerous.

Milky-White ambled out from behind a tree and nuzzled her hand.

"Milky-White? I don't believe it…" She didn't care about the cow right now; where was _Jack_?

"Mother?"

Jack was lying on the ground where Milky-White came from. His mother rushed over to him.

"Jack! Oh, thank Heaven…what are you doing? The woods are no place for a child, and it's already so dark…"

"Milky-White ran in here and I had to get him back—"

"She, son; it's a she…now get up! We have to get home before any wolves find us!"

"…I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"Milky-White was stuck, and when I pulled him out, I fell and…" Jack gestured to his leg, which was twisted under him. "I can't stand up."

That was when they heard the first howl in the distance.

Jack's mother picked up her son and practically threw him on top of Milky-White, then pushed the cow back towards home as fast as they both could move. It wasn't easy; Jack wasn't heavy, but Milky-White, unused to being treated like a beast of burden, was moving slower than usual.

A second howl—this one just a few yards away—made them all move faster. Milky-White broke into a trot, and it was all Jack's mother could do to make sure her son didn't fall off.

They'd reached the edge of the woods when suddenly, the wolf lunged at them from the shadows. Jack screamed, and his mother hit Milky-White so hard on the flank that the cow screamed as well and took off for home at a mad gallop.

The wolf moved to follow, but Jack's mother threw herself in its path, arms outstretched to block his way.

"You stay _away_ from my son!"

The wolf looked her over with the discerning eye of a gourmet.

"Hmm…I prefer my meals young," he muttered, "but in the right light, you're not so bad…" He swiveled his hips in her direction. "You'll have to do!"

She took one pointed look down.

"I've seen better," she said dryly, then she whacked the wolf across the head with a tree branch, stunning it long enough for her to run like hell for home.

Fortunately, Jack's injury wasn't severe, and he was up and running again within a fortnight, but his mother never again let him take Milky-White grazing alone.

* * *

The beanstalk crashing to the ground was so tremendous that Jack's mother was knocked off her feet. The air was thick with dust, limiting her vision, and her ears were ringing, and she could feel blood rushing to her hip where she was sure to have a wonderful bruise by morning.

When she shouted for her son, she couldn't even hear her own voice. The dust began to settle, and she could just make out the feet and body of an enormous giant lying dead in her backyard.

She didn't know how she got into the woods, or how she found the baker and his wife; she only knew she was running and probably screaming and terrified that Jack was dead, crushed by the giant or by the beanstalk or…or…or…

The glint of royal steel pointed squarely at her brought back some of what little sense she had, and she tried to explain what had happened.

Jack was climbing down the beanstalk. Jack was calling for his ax. Jack was chopping down the beanstalk and there was a sudden crash, but there was no Jack and…

She dissolved into tears, the reality of the situation finally dawning. Jack was gone and for what? They already had enough gold—the hen could lay a dozen golden eggs, but she couldn't buy another son.

When she finally saw Jack arrive, carrying the biggest, shiniest golden harp she'd ever seen, she was overwhelmed with emotion. Relief. Anger. Awe. That harp alone could keep them fed for the rest of their lives. Jack was safe. What were they going to do with the dead giant? He could have been killed coming down that plant! But he wasn't killed, he was safe and they were rich, and the cow was back to life and giving milk and…too much had happened. At the end of the day, all that mattered was Jack was safe.

* * *

Jack's mother narrowly avoided being crushed underfoot as the giant strode through the marketplace; if she'd lingered over the fruit a moment longer, she'd be as smashed as the apples and their grower now were.

For a moment, she watched the giant continue on its path towards the village, then with a flash of understanding, she realized that her home—and the son who'd promised to stay inside said home—was in terrible danger.

She ran so hard that by the time she reached the rubble of her crushed house, she didn't have breath enough to shout for Jack.

How could she have been so foolish! Of course Jack would have stayed inside; he wasn't smart enough to disobey his mother and find his way to safety. Why, oh why had she made him promise? She fell to the ground, too stunned to cry, when movement on the other side of the house's one remaining wall caught her attention.

"Jack?" His mother rushed to the other side to find Milky-White calmly swishing her tail.

"Milky-White! But how…?" Milky-White had been in the house. She couldn't have left on her own, so Jack must have let her out, and he wouldn't have let her out unless…

"He left the house!" she exclaimed aloud. "He's safe!" She was too relieved to even be angry that he'd broken his promise to her; his insubordination had saved his life, after all.

But where was he?

He probably thinks he can go and kill this giant too, his mother thought. If that was true, then if she followed the giant, she'd probably find Jack.

Luckily, the giant left clear tracks. It was no time at all before Jack's mother reached a clearing in the woods, where she was surprised to see quite a large group of people already confronting the giant. She only had to listen for a moment to learn that the giant wanted her son—dead. Her blood ran cold; if the giant found Jack…no, she couldn't let that happen!

So she ran forward, ready to give that giant a piece of her mind. No one, and she meant _no one_ , not even a giant, was going to hurt Jack! She'd keep her son safe or die trying!

* * *

Jack's mother wasn't sure where she was. The woods? Yes, the woods…she'd been here before. Straight through and without delay…

And there was Jack, her sweet boy. He'd killed another giant and with only a little help from the baker. Perhaps he really was a man now…slotted spoons don't hold much soup, but they _can_ catch the potato.

"Where am I to go?" he asked his companions. "I have no one to take care of me."

"You'll have to take care of yourself now, Jack," the baker said. "It's time."

His mother's heart broke; in the end, this was her fault. Jack was more than old enough to take care of himself…she should have let him go sooner, but she would have worried… All she ever did was worry, and what good did that ever do?

"No, it's not," the young girl with them said. "I'll take care of him."

"You will?" Jack asked, wide-eyed."

"Yes. I'll be your mother now."

Jack's mother snorted—that girl had no idea what she'd just signed up for.

"I don't want another mother; I want a friend…and a pet."

A single tear rolled down her cheek; he really was a loyal son, even if she never did get him his pet… She shook her head. It was time to go. Jack would be taken care of by these people; he would be safe.

She didn't need to worry anymore.


End file.
